XLII. Troubled at heart, almost he felt a hope That yet some chance his victim might delay. So as he mus'd, adown the neighbouring slope He saw a lonely traveller on his way; And now he knows the man so much abhorr'd,— His holier thoughts are gone, he bares the murderous sword. XLIII. "The house of Valdespesa gives the blow! And prostrate at the young man's knees he fell, And stopt his hand and cried-" oh, do not take "A wretched sinner's life! mercy for Jefus' sake!” XLIV. At that most blessed name, as at a spell, Conscience, the God within him, smote his heart. His hand for murder rais'd unharming fell, He felt cold sweat-drops on his forchead start, A moment mute in holy horror stood, Then cried, "joy, joy, my God! I have not shed his blood !" XLV. He rais'd Anselmo up, and bade him live, The bloody purpose led by which he came. XLVI. He ran with breathless speed,-he reached the door, For grace vouchsafed; before the cross he fell, And rais'd his swimming eyes, and thought that there He saw the imaged Christ smile favouring on his prayer. XLVII. A blest illusion! from that very night The monk's austerest life devout he led ; And still he felt the enthusiast's deep delight, And seraph-visions floated round his head; The joys of heaven foretasted fill'd his soul, And still the good man's name adorns the sainted roll. R. S. Y. LUCRETIA. A MONODRAMA. Scene, the house of COLLATINE. Welcome, my father! good Valerius, I sate at eve Spinning amid my maidens as I wont, Of battles, and the long and perilous seige, Nay hear me out! And be thou wise in vengeance, so thy wife That it may stir your noble spirits, prompt My chamber lamp gleam'd on his unsheath'd sword; His hot, red, eye!-O Collatine-my husband! From what an anguish have I rescued thee! Look if it have not kindled Brutus' eye! Thinkest thou, my husband, that I dreaded death? My bosom, had been ease, been happiness- Judge if Lucretia could have fear'd to die! (Stabs herself). S. |